My Life With the Walter Boys

It was the end of the school week, and we were supposed to be finishing up our art project in class. Each group was to present the finished project on Monday, but Heather, Riley, and I were nowhere close to being done. We’d chosen to do a photography collage, but after checking out a camera to use, we didn’t make any progress. Heather and Riley were distracted, constantly asking me questions about the Walters.

 

“Is Isaac a boxer or briefs kind of guy?” Heather asked, pulling her bubble gum in a long string past her lips before letting it spring back inside her mouth.

 

“How would I know that?” I said, trying to adjust the focus on our camera. I still couldn’t figure out how to make everything look less blurry when I looked through the lens. I wanted to scream.

 

“You live with him,” Riley pointed out, as if I spent all my free time at the Walters’ house riffling through their underwear drawers. Now that I thought about it, Heather probably would.

 

“Yes, for like a week,” I reminded her. “Can we please focus? I need to get a good grade on this project.”

 

“Relax, Jackie,” Riley said in her Southern drawl. “This is art class. Nobody ever gets bad grades in art class. Not ever.”

 

“Unless we don’t turn in our project…”

 

“Don’t worry,” Heather chimed in. “It will get done.”

 

“When? We have”—I paused to look up at the clock—“exactly twenty minutes to finish ours and we haven’t taken one picture.”

 

“I don’t know,” Riley told me. “We just will.”

 

“Oh. My. God!” Heather cried a second later. “I have the most brilliant idea ever! Why don’t we finish the project at the Walters’ house this weekend? We could even do a sleepover!”

 

Riley frowned in disapproval. “I don’t know, Heather,” she said slowly. “It’s kinda rude to invite ourselves over, especially since we just met Jackie.”

 

A jolt of excitement coursed through me. Not only would a sleepover be the perfect solution to our project crisis, but it also could be my chance to cement myself into this group of friends. Even with Lucy’s help—she introduced me to everyone she knew at Hawks—it was never easy for me to make friends. Without her now, it was going to be even harder for me to meet people.

 

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I thought about my sister. Having Riley and Heather over would be a good thing. Maybe I could ask Katherine after school if they could stay over Saturday. It was almost as if Lucy was with me, urging me to bond with these new people.

 

“No, no, it’s fine!” I burst out, looking around at the group. “I’ll just ask Mrs. Walter if we can have a sleepover when I get home today. Is Saturday okay with you both?”

 

Riley studied me for a moment, unsure, so I forced a bigger smile onto my face. “I suppose so,” she finally said after a long moment of hesitation. “I’m gonna have to pick out my cutest pajamas.”

 

***

 

Later that day, after Katherine had agreed to the sleepover and I called Riley to tell her the good news, I made my way downstairs with the intention of thanking Katherine for letting my friends come over. As I neared the kitchen, I heard an angry voice.

 

“But, Aunt Kathy, she’s only been living here for a week, and you’re letting her invite friends into our home?”

 

“Lee,” Katherine said with a disapproving tone, “how can you say such a thing?”

 

“It’s not like it’s her house to invite people to.”

 

“Honey, that poor girl has no family. This is her home now, whether you like it or not. I’m just trying to put a little happiness into an awful situation, and you should be doing the same. You of all people should understand that.”

 

I came to a halt so fast it felt like I was on a roller coaster, the safety bar jerking me back as the ride came to a sudden end.

 

“Come on, Aunt Kathy—”

 

I didn’t stay long enough to hear what Lee said. He was right—this wasn’t my home and I certainly would never fit in here. I swept back up the stairs, not caring if I sent a few DVDs flying down in my wake, and hurtled down the hallway toward my room. I was moving with such momentum that when I crashed into something rock hard, I was sent sprawling back on my butt.

 

“Son of a…” Cole grumbled. He was rubbing his head, his jaw clenched in pain, as we both sat on the floor in a daze. When he glanced over and realized that I was on the ground next to him, he shook his head. “Damn girl, for someone so short, you’re like a mini bulldozer.”

 

“Sorry,” I replied and scrambled to my feet. My head had that light, whooshing feeling when you stand up too fast, and there were black dots blinking in front of my eyes, but I pushed past Cole, determined to make it to my room.

 

“Hey, New York! Wait up,” he called out. I could feel him stumbling after me, but I didn’t stop, throwing open my door with such force that it slammed into the wall, rattling the bookcase nearest it. “Jackie, what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” I lied, trying to slam the door shut before he could get in.

 

“That,” said Cole, while sticking his foot in the path of the closing door, “is complete bullshit.”